


Canis, Thy Mother

by CourierNinetyTwo



Series: RWBY Relationship Week 2015 [3]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3684876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Set before RWBY Volume 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canis, Thy Mother

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry for RWBY Relationship Week, with Pyrrha and Glynda as the match-up.

Beacon was wide and empty.

For years, Pyrrha had scaled Sanctum’s winding stairs, spirals cut into rising cliffs and worn smooth from tens of thousands of passing feet. Mistral’s most famous stadium was in the heart of a dead volcano and competitors took pride in ascending its face to reach the gymnasium at the top rather than taking the simple carved path to the heart of the field, where spectators gathered and clamored for every tournament. Heights she knew, air so thin it scalded the lungs, and narrow walls that hugged her shoulders after puberty brought the quickening of muscle, but not this.

It was high, like all campuses, like anywhere that fended off the Grimm, but Vale as a whole was lower to the earth, coast kissing the sea rather than looming above it. Pyrrha found it easier to breathe, each inhale filling her lungs nearly to the bursting point, but the amount of space was rather disarming. A fountain or sculpture decorated the open quads here and there, but even those were different, dull gray stone rather than the polished marble that was Mistral’s pride, which could be carved so thin light shone through or molded until it flowed in folds of fabric, appearing soft enough to give like flesh.

Yet the headmaster had offered her a position of choice here, guaranteed enrollment and support, including the right to compete in tournaments for either her homeland or in the school’s name. Most hunting institutions were highly protective of their honors, but Ozpin respected her origins, and Pyrrha found that comforting.

So far from home, she’d accepted, already writing the letter that would have to be sent to her tournament coach inside her head. The wizened huntress would have her respect for a lifetime, no matter where fate drew them apart. Very few warriors lived to see so much silver in their hair, much less earn first right to training prodigies.

 _Prodigy._ Pyrrha had memorized that word in plenty of tongues, even if it slipped out of her mouth so much more easily in Mistrali than Vytalian.

“Ms. Nikos.”

The cool and measured tone drew Pyrrha out of her thoughts and she turned to offer a greeting. Glynda Goodwitch was the first woman she’d ever met that made her feel as if she wasn’t standing up straight enough, possessing a posture of unyielding steel. Every movement was swift with the ease of practice driven to the point of second nature, decades of experience without any loss of physicality. Pyrrha had expected a narrow blade, maybe a bow, but the riding crop was a surprise, so compact as to be missed with a quick glance.

“I’m sorry.” She smiled, ingrained instinct by now. Usually when someone said her name, it was followed by the flash of a camera. “I was…in my own thoughts.”

“There’s quite a lot for you to be thinking about.” Goodwitch noted, not unkindly. “I won’t chastise for using your mind, as some teachers might. Do you have any questions?”

Pyrrha shook her head. “No. I’m honored to have been chosen.”

“Purely on merit, Ms. Nikos. Ozpin hand-picks every student.” Behind the razor-thin frame of silver glasses, something bright and fleeting flickered through Goodwitch’s eyes. “But there is an additional test that could be done, if you’d indulge me.”

“Another test?” She frowned, confusion twisting her mouth into a tense line. “Related to my acceptance?”

Any concern was waved away with a brief, dismissive gesture. “No, that is already sealed and signed. This is solely for my own edification.”

When Pyrrha blinked, about to ask for clarification of the last word, Goodwitch realized it before a single sound could leave her lips. “My apologies, Ms. Nikos. It is my curiosity alone and will have no reflection on your record.”

“What sort of test?” Curiosity pricked at her too, like a thorn daring just against the skin.

“Your Semblance is polarity.” Goodwitch said it so simply the statement took a moment to register; Pyrrha didn’t exactly keep it a  _secret_ , but she preferred not to flaunt the ability. Rare Semblances always drew attention, and she had quite enough of that already. “Mine is telekinesis.”

Pyrrha’s jaw dropped a centimeter before she kept herself from gaping. “Truly? Any object?”

“Anything inanimate, yes.” One hand rose before Glynda’s fingers twisted slowly in midair, and Pyrrha startled when Akoúo̱ moved with the motion, its strap tensing against her forearm. “Thus my curiosity.”

While she couldn’t recall the exact pattern of occurrence — one in a hundred, one in a thousand — Pyrrha knew her Semblance was uncommon enough to have researchers approaching her for the rest of her life. Goodwitch’s was an immediate note in the history books, on the very edge of was considered possible by the power of the human soul. Even those who infused themselves with Dust, had it carved in their bodies from head to toe, couldn’t summon such force without extinguishing themselves completely.

“What would you have me do?” Pyrrha asked.

“A simple expression of will, Ms. Nikos.” It was warming to see a smile curve the professor’s mouth, guarded but possessing a competitive and inspiring air, the sort Pyrrha knew like fire in her blood. “My abilities against yours.”

“You’re far more experienced than I could ever dream to be, Professor.” She demurred, but it was hard to back down entirely. “Are you asking me to win?”

“No. That would be decidedly unfair. I simply wish to see your limits, as perhaps they have never been tested before.” Goodwitch’s head tilted slightly to the left. “As I understand it, they only require a simple expression of Aura in order to legally compete in a tournament.”

“My…tutors sought to teach me all they could when it came to honing my Semblance. All of them were diligent, but—” Pyrrha hesitated.

Her meaning was caught and understood nonetheless. “They didn’t share your power.”

“No.” By no fault of their own, but she had long since set aside the thought of meeting someone else who felt the world as she did. Life was too short to meet every sort of star that brightened the sky. “Not in that way.”

“Then are you willing?” Goodwitch asked.

It was also too short to pass up such a unique opportunity. “Of course.”

Beacon’s stadium was smaller than Sanctum’s, but the roof was closed completely overhead, allowing for sparring sessions in any sort of weather. It wasn’t until they reached the very center that Goodwitch came to a halt and a sudden flick of her crop drew a large but empty weapons rack from the wall onto the battlefield. Pyrrha had certainly lifted something that size before, but it was for endurance practice, done for time until she was exhausted and buckled under. Training to use it against another’s weapon took far more precise techniques.

“This is something we can both manipulate.” Bending down, Goodwitch sheathed her weapon inside one boot and turned around. “Without your weapons, without any focus, I want you to try and take it from me.”

Miló and Akoúo̱ went to her back, their weight solid and comforting. Pyrrha flexed her fingers and let out a deep breath. “Do you really think I can?”

An enigmatic smile was the only answer for a long moment. “I believe that one day, Ms. Nikos, you will be able to bring down this entire building down around our heads.”

The weapons rack rattled as it rose, steadying itself several feet up in the air before Goodwitch took several steps back, conjuring a fair amount of space in between them. Pyrrha could feel the thrum of Aura through the metal frame, holding it high as if by invisible strings, but it was _everywhere_. Every atom suspended and controlled without any sign of strain, natural as the life flowing through someone’s veins.

“Now?” She asked.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Goodwitch said.

At first, it felt like the slip of water and oil. Pyrrha couldn’t get a steady mental grip on the rack with the force of Semblance already surrounding it until she tightened her focus. Feeling the energy pierce through made her shudder, but she caught a split second smile from her opponent — Goodwitch. A faint blush colored Pyrrha’s face; she was a professor, not another would-be hunter in a tournament.

“Pay attention, Ms. Nikos.” The chastising was light, well-intentioned. “You have a hold, but I don’t feel you pulling.”

At ten years of age, her Semblance had been powerful enough to move a massive iron slab weighing more than a ton. Pyrrha had thrown it with grace as easily as a discus, let the chunk of metal fall hundreds of meters away in the sand. Her parents laughed and cheered, in awe of their only daughter.

She wondered what Goodwitch’s family had thought upon learning her power.

With a sharp exhale, Pyrrha pulled. The rack moved a centimeter before jerking back into place and she nearly lost her influence before recovering at the last second. Goodwitch’s strength was like an opposing magnet, so much Aura as to be unthinkable, but Pyrrha refused to relent, her hands grasping empty air to mimic the movement of drawing it back.

Nothing.

How could she not even pull the rack an inch when metal sang to her, called as if it wanted to leap into her hands, eager to fly? Pyrrha grunted, her feet locked against the earth, immobile as her grip tightened, hands clenching into rigid fists.

It was like pulling a sledge through wet concrete, every bit of distance a drag that wore on her entire body, but her heart quickened when the weapons rack bobbed in the air, slowly drifting forward.   

Then it swung back, quick as a rubber band about to snap, and Pyrrha’s knees almost buckled. Goodwitch raised her other hand, not to move the rack, but with the same gesture as a referee calling a pause.

“An excellent effort. Now for the opposite.”

Her lungs burned; Pyrrha had to wet her lips before speaking. “The opposite?”

“I’ll try and push it towards you, and you will keep me from doing so.” So simple, like she wouldn’t be opposing a force of nature. “Alright?”

After another breath, Pyrrha nodded.

Trains moved with less momentum. Cars and planes and the very waves of the ocean would bend under Goodwitch’s dominion, if it was willed. The passing of time severed from the moment as Pyrrha gasped and shoved back, Aura sapping itself from every inch of her body, expended by sheer instinct, verging on desperation. Dropping to one knee, she pressed upward, praying the angle would provide some leverage, even if it put the weapons rack over her head where it could drop at any moment.

Sweat dripped down her brow to the floor, jaw tensed so tightly Pyrrha felt her teeth go numb. Gravity itself worked against her, fatigue slicing to the bone as she sucked in one last breath, dark spots dancing along blurring vision.

The weight was gone. In an instant it vanished, and distantly Pyrrha heard the rack crash back against the wall. She couldn’t move, muscles locked so tight even trying to flex her fingers was met with pins and needles driven deep.

“Ms. Nikos.” Goodwitch sounded like she was speaking underwater. “Are you alright?”

It was exhilarating. Behind the strain, Pyrrha felt a rush of joy. No one had ever pushed her so far, much less so quickly, and it felt like if she could stand, a thousand barriers around her would break.  _If._ Exhaustion pressed in from all sides, deeper than flesh and blood.

“Pyrrha.”

There were hands on her shoulders. Heat poured from them before an infusion of Aura surged sent a pulse from head to toe, and Pyrrha took in a breath so deep, it was if her lungs had never known the air before. A laugh spilled from her lips, born by adrenaline, and the touch faded, Goodwitch’s face becoming solid and real again, rather than a confusing blend of color.

“Can you speak?”

Her throat was dry, but no longer stinging with the need for oxygen. “Yes.”

“I’m afraid I may have pushed a bit harder than necessary. You…surpassed my expectations.” Goodwitch said, raising a brow as if surprised by her own admission.

“I did?” Pyrrha asked.

“Quite so.” A hand was offered to help her stand. The second she took it, there was a jolt of Aura between their palms. “Be careful. With so much energy expended, I’m sure there will be a bit of…static.”

“Have you done this before?” She was sure it was a silly question as soon as it left her lips, but Goodwitch frowned.

“Not in many, many years, Ms. Nikos. And their power was not such as yours.” Despite the expression, Pyrrha sensed satisfaction rather than displeasure. “Honor that gift and it will serve you very well.”

“I will, Professor. Thank you for giving me the chance.”

A pale blonde brow rose. “The headmaster had final say on your admission.”

“I meant, for this.” Her knuckles popped when she gestured, the last of the stiffness working itself out. “For the first time, I felt my limit.”

“It’s a very humbling thing.” Goodwitch replied, tone surprisingly soft. “But a telling lesson.”

The song in her blood felt louder now, more in tune.

So rather than answering, Pyrrha simply smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> The paradox of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object is also known as the Spear-Shield paradox, illustrated in the Greek myth of Laelaps and the Cadmean Vixen, a hound and fox that Zeus turned into stars to keep them from hunting one another for all eternity. They became Canis Major and Minor.


End file.
